Begin the Brawl
by Transii
Summary: SSBM/SSBB. Different heroes, different worlds, united under one rule: Fight, or be Smashed! Characters interact, personalities clash, and new friendships are forged. A series of one-shots and drabbles based off Super Smash Brawl, with a few Melee guests.
1. Swordplay: Link and Marth

A simple series of one-shots based off Super Smash Brawl. R and R, please!

**01- Swordplay**

"HEYYAHH!"

_Clang. Clang._

"Hup! HAHH—!!"

_Cla-CLANG. Fwt—Clang. Clang._

"HIY—"

"Link, please," Marth interjected dourly, returning to his beginning position. Lifting Falchion's point to trace the movement of his opponent, the blue-haired swordsman eyed the object of his annoyance down the length of the sword with poignant exasperation. "Less grunting, more parrying." He charged.

"Sorry." Rolling away to dodge the steel, the Hero drew his bow with a practiced motion and let an arrow fly from the sturdy frame. Marth deflected the shot easily with a sweep of his blade, fixing the archer with a deadpan glare. The blonde grinned flippantly at him. "It's sort of a _habit_," he excused himself, grunting the last word as he flung a furiously hissing bomb toward the other man. The swordsman leapt back in a blur of blue and distanced himself from the imminent explosion. Link somersaulted out of range and plugged his long ears just in time: a second later the bomb went off spectacularly, spitting dark smoke and ashes in a plume of gray.

Marth coughed into a fist as he watched the dark clouds scatter for a chance to attack. "Extra noise hardly benefits a swordsman's performance," he refuted. Fending off a barrage of Link's arrows with a flourish of his thick cape, he lunged for an opening, sword flashing dangerously.

"Pshh. So?" With a grunt, Link raised his shield just in time to deflect the incoming attack. Reaching for the hilt of his own sword, the Hero of Time swept into the offensive. "Don't strike it 'till you try it! HEYAH!" Energy arced from the metal as it raked the area of it's bearer's circumference, shimmering an afterimage of the magic blade. The immediate danger of impalement now cleared, the teen's viridian eyes glowed with adrenaline as he faced Marth. "Besides, I'm not so much a swordsman as I am a… " He paused, searching for the right word. "I dunno. But I use a heckuva lot more… stuff… than a swordsman."

Marth considered the Hero's thinking visage with a raised brow. "A jack-of-all-trades, then?" he suggested, and the two swordsmen broke stance to consider this thought.

A shrug. "Eh. It's better than 'Dungeon Crawler'." Link smirked, and replaced the Master Sword with his trusty Clawshot.

"Very true," Marth inclined, a similar expression appearing on his lips. He rushed in without another word, Falchion at the ready.

Link's arm raised and aimed in a blur of speed, the hooked ends of his ranged tool all but flying toward his opponent and clamping down mercilessly on the metal of Marth's sword. The bluenette wrestled with the Clawshot's (literally) iron grip for a time, before muttering an oath under his breath when he noticed Link pulling out a bomb. The prince growled, re-gripping the hilt of his sword with renewed vigor.

"_Saseru mono ka?"_ he asked, eyes flashing defiance. Lifting his sword to eye level, right elbow held high, Marth countered, "Dolphin Slash!"

The vertical slice freed the weapon from the jaws of its captor, sending the claw and chain flying toward the ground, and Marth harrumphed in success as he brandished his reclaimed Falchion. Grinning to himself, Link defused the unused bomb, retracted the metal shot and summoned his own sword and shield. Charging forward, he brought up his weapon in a vicious uppercut to meet Marth's downward aerial attack. The two met in a rage of steel and the clangor of blade against blade rang in both their ears.

Link grunted at the pressure Marth exerted on his sword arm as the Altean vaulted away in a perfect backflip, cloak billowing about his lithe form as he landed in a crouch, Falchion held taut to the side. The Hylian scoffed. "Showoff."

"Dungeon Crawler," Marth replied cooly, eyebrow raising in a silent dare.

Link chucked another bomb at him.


	2. A Link to the Past: Zelda and Link

**02- A Link to the Past**

"…Link…?"

He turned, spotting her in the hallway. A smile crept over his face. "Yes, Zelda?"

The princess blinked, nonplussed. "Hero of Light?" she queried, still unsure if he was the correct…

To her surprise and embarrassment the green-eyed blonde laughed openly at her confusion, rubbing the back of his neck almost apologetically. His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Nope, Hero of Time. Sorry," he said. Smiling widely, he took great pleasure in watching the rash of a blush that burned across the majority of Zelda's exposed face.

_What?!_ She was older than he was! …er, is! And taller, to boot… sort of. And yet the Crown princess of Hyrule blushed like an adolescent in the face of the Hero of Time, currently only seventeen. And grinning at her as if she looked like the idiot she felt like.

"I… I apologize," Zelda stammered, averting her gaze to the tiled floor of the Smash Main Hall. "I… mistook you for my Hero."

At this his grin only doubled in size. "_Your_ Hero, princess?" he prodded, mischievity thick in his voice.

_Oh, Farore._

The hall reverberated with the Hero of Time's good-natured laughter. Zelda wished furiously to merge with the walls of the building and never, never come out again… Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Pikachu and Marth pausing some distance away, looking curiously in their direction. Pikachu simply flicked an ear, which Zelda knew no meaning for— but Marth's indigo eyes darted between herself and the Hero of Time. By the time he led Pikachu away, there was a knowing smirk on his face. Zelda's blush all but doubled.

Wiping away a tear, Link asked her, "But really, do we look _that_ alike?" He chuckled. "I mean, he's got to be at least twenty, and that's a good three years older than me." Placing both gloved hands on his hips, the younger of the two Heroes looked at her inquiringly with a cocked head. "Well?"

At this, the princess mustered courage enough to return her gaze to the younger Link. Her blush stayed firmly put, to her dismay, but she looked long, and well.

After a time, Link coughed. "Uh… Zelda?"

She gazed at him. "…Yes."

Bewilderment. "Huh?"

"You… do look very much alike, Hero."

Both faces were battle-lined, however young they were. Skin worn with travel and fight, forever lightly tanned under Din's fiery sun, all too rugged from dangers faced with death at the door. Calloused fingers, an effect of the wielding of magicked swords and weapons of every assortment and size. Countless scars and injuries dealt by the hand of the Evil that had stood in their path.

The knowledge of death reflected in their eyes. So did the truth of Light, and the forever abounding capacity of kindness, courage… love…

They were two different people, yet all the same.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and Zelda realized that now it was he who was the flustered one. "Um… okay." An awkward smile was offered. "Thanks…?"

The Princess of Destiny smiled, radiant. "You, kind sir, are most welcome."


	3. Lords of the Emblem: Ike and Marth

-1**A/N: **Please remember that I don't know DIDDLE-SQUAT about Fire Emblem, and have never played it in my life. Feel free to correct me.

**03- Lords of the Emblem**

Upon introduction, Ike's mouth went dry.

Marth? _The _Marth?

The first _Lord of the Fire Emblem_?

"Ike, was it?" the Altean prince addressed him, and Ike immediately stood to attention.

"Uh… yeah, that's my name," Ike confirmed, doing his best not to boggle— which was hard, because the man standing before him was, or rather, had been until just now, a figment of folklore. Marth nodded in something like approval and sheathed his sword (Holy— _Falchion?!_­) before returning his full attention to the other swordsman. Meta Knight resumed his inspection of the remains of what Ike had destroyed off of the Ancient Minister.

The so-called figment of folklore regarded Ike with an unreadable expression. "That was some good swordplay back there, Ike. I thank you for it."

At this, Ike had no choice but to smile. "Thanks. I'm just happy Ragnell here didn't miss," he replied, patting the hilt of his sword fondly. "It pays to have a blessed sword, sometimes."

"To that, I agree wholeheartedly," Marth affirmed, a hint of a smile of his own playing across his lips. Then a dark cloud swept that hint away as he gazed into the distance, indigo eyes resting despondently on the rubbled remains of a once-majestic castle. The great void of the Minister's bomb ravaged a portion of the stone structures even as he watched.

Ike followed his line of vision and let his own eyes fall upon the ruins. He looked from the castle to the man who looked at it so sadly, brow contoured in understanding. "I'm sorry you couldn't save it."

Marth waved a hand dismissively. "It's of no matter," he said nonchalantly, but his eyes never faltered from the ruins, and Ike knew he was lying, in part at least. The prince sighed deeply through his nose, then finally turned away from the scene, making to tramp across the dunes to find Meta Knight, who would no doubt still be sifting through the broken metal. Before his second step could fall, Ike caught his shoulder with a gloved hand. He turned, brows furrowed. "What is it?"

"Uh, I…" Ike quickly removed the hand at the other's less-than-pleased countenance, its counterpart moving automatically to scratch the hair at the base of his head— an obvious habit if there ever was one. "I was wondering, if…" he trailed, then tried again, "I was wondering if you could teach me?" At Marth's puzzled frown he rushed to explain, "About the sword, I mean. Give me a few tips?" he asked hopefully.

There was a long pause between the two blue-haired men, during which the wind blew across the sand and Meta Knight cinched his foot under a particularly dense piece of wreckage. (Said wreckage went flying across the sandscape, accompanied by a few oaths.)

Then suddenly, the tension parted like the sand to the wind, cut clean in two by the sound of Marth's laughter. Ike watched the man's mirth in bewilderment.

The Altean looked bemusedly toward his fellow swordsman as his laughs died away, smiling wider than Ike, who was currently shocked speechless, could have ever imagined seeing him. "Me, teach you?" he repeated, motioning toward himself in a nearly incredulous manner. Ike was suddenly afraid for his ego to be dealt a powerful blow, but instead of the predicted insult he was given a rather major compliment. "And here I was going to ask you the same about your last attack!"

"You… were?" Ike asked faintly, wondering if this was a jest. Marth, ask _him_ for advice?

"Falchion is a fine blade," Marth redeemed his sword, hand lifting to stroke its elegant hilt, "but in terms of heighted attacks I can't do much to match my jump for its power." He gestured toward Ragnell. "You didn't seem to suffer the same problem, as was demonstrated, so…"

His initial astonishment whiplashing into amicability, Ike found himself the bearer of an ear-to-ear grin. "Well, I was going to ask you about your speed, actually," he admitted sheepishly. "I've never seen anyone handle their sword so fast in a vertical slash! My counter could definitely use some speeding up."

Marth chuckled, and Ike decided that this would, as cheesy as it sounded, be the start of a beautiful relationship.


	4. Children of Courage: Link and Link

**04- Children of Courage**

_What a beautiful day…_

Link, fiddled absently with a lock of his hair. The late afternoon sea breeze swept up low waves in a gentle lull, and he was more than happy to be pulled into the familiar comfort of the ship's rocking upon the swells. Misty spray alighted on the winds and assaulted his nose with the musk of ocean salt. The young hero sighed, content and happy for the peace between battles. Master Hand liked his vacations few and far between, especially during tournaments, and this rare time of quiet was much appreciated by all the Brawlers.

A gull called from far above the deck of the sea vessel. Yawning widely, Link reclined in his wooden seat (the wide railing of Tetra's pirate ship), his spine grateful for the lack of his usual heavy harnesses and equipment. His bare feet dangled boldly off the edge of the wooden vessel, many yards above the actual waters themselves. The waves continued to roll, the motion pulling him into a trancelike state of rest. Sunlight streamed down upon his visible part of the world. Clouds were small but hugely fluffy, and scattered between great expanses of sky.

He was just about to let his eyelids flutter shut when he was disturbed by the sound of leather padding lightly against wood. Twisting around lazily, Link turned to find another young boy on the deck of the ship.

A boy that was clad in green, with a conical cap atop a mess of blonde hair— from under which a pair of pointed ears protruded.

Much like himself.

The child Hero of Time smiled sheepishly, as if apologizing for disturbing his dozing counterpart. In response Link pat the space beside him with a small hand, as if to forgive him. Moving quickly and as silently as he could, the child Hero darted to his side and seated himself on the weather-worn wood.

An amicable silence stretched between them, and the vast sea was more than willing to fill in the void with the sound of gentle waves and murmuring of the waters. They went without talking for a long time.

Finally the child Hero spoke, in a voice that wasn't quite a whisper, "It sure is nice out here."

Slowly, as if moving was a great reluctance, Link nodded. "It always is, on a sunny day." A content sigh escaped him, and he smiled. "Sometimes… I think it's for days like this that saving the world is worth all the trouble."

"Yeah?" the other asked, contemplative. The wind blew through their hair for a moment.

"Don't you think so?" prodded the barefoot blonde, looking curiously at his companion.

The child Hero smiled. "Well, for me… I guess it would be for a run out in the field with Epona," he said. "Or maybe fishing all day under a shady tree…"

Head cocked, Link queried, "Epona?"

"My horse," came the explanation.

"Oh." Link returned his gaze to the ocean for a bit, before turning back to state, "I've never seen a horse before."

Surprise washed over the other child's countenance. "What, _really_?"

"Really!"

Identical grins spread over the two boys' faces, the moment of lucidity shared in boyish alliance. "I'll show her to you someday," promised one.

Link frowned, hope dampened by reality. "Do you think Master Hand'll let us dimension-jump, though?" It seemed unlikely, though the blonde did want to see the horse rather much… He swung his bare feet through air space, thinking through the possibilities. They all seemed rather slim.

"Pah. If he doesn't," determined the other, with a flap of his hand, "I'll talk Pit into taking us. He's an angel, right? He should know how to get to one place or another." His tone took on a cheerful current, and Link couldn't help but feel the same by the way the child Hero spoke. "So, I'll show you Epona then, okay?" A happy grin overtook his face. "And I'll introduce you to Navi, too. She's my fairy," he informed him proudly, then made a face. "But she gets kinda annoying, sometimes."

The ship dipped and rose in rhythm to the waves. Link smiled, remembering his own fairy experiences. Ciela stood out as the most recent of them, and he couldn't help but wonder where she was, and what she was up to… "That sounds like fun," he concurred brightly, but at the same time wishing he had something to share with the child Hero.

"So…" began the child Hero, now that the promise was set in agreement, "Is there a Zelda in your timeline?"

Link laughed, the boy beside him blinking in surprise. "Of course!" he cried, smiling widely. "Only, she's a pirate. And this is her ship." He pat the wood upon which they sat.

"Whoa…" Eyes grew round as they took in this new truth. "This whole ship?"

"She has a pirate crew and everything," Link nodded. "I was surprised Master Hand got her permission to use it for the tournament. She's usually really protective of her ship." Suddenly, a grin overtook his features. "Oh, but you wouldn't believe all the trouble she gets herself into!" Quickly, he relayed a summary of his first meeting with the pirate princess, and how she had gotten herself kidnapped in his latest fiasco concerning the Phantom Hourglass.

Laughter exploded out of the both of them. "No way! _Really?_"

"Really!"

"That's… that's crazy!"

More laughter pealed.

"Oh, I'm _crazy_, am I?" a voice inquired maliciously.

Link yelped as a pair of fingers yanked on one of his ears. "Wha— Tetra!" he cried. "Ow, stop!" He struggled against the Zelda incarnate's grip, but she only held on tighter to the kidnapped appendage.

One of the child Hero's ears were also held captive in the pirate's other hand. Both boys keeled over the railing of the ship and landed flat on their backs. The hard, wooden deck was unkind to their now bruised heads. Tetra stood over them like a vulture come for her prey; the two of them gulped in a collective motion.

"I'll show you _crazy_, you lazy Heroes!"

Link sighed in defeat, sharing reassuring glances with his co-captive before looking straight up at the endless, blue sky. The ship rocked gently under him.

_What a beautiful day…_


	5. Across 12: Samus and Snake

**A/N: **Again— I have never played Metroid in my life. Or Metal Gear Solid, for that matter. Sue me. :P

**05- Across-12**

After a long day of brawling, Samus reclined in a plush sofa, puzzling over her latest mission: the morning paper, and its accompanying crossword puzzle. The conundrum was rated a difficulty of five stars, most likely due more to its frustratingly vague hints than the difficulty of the words that composed the solution. She sighed and paused to cross her long legs the other way before refocusing on Across-12. The Smash main hall was devoid of its usual humdrum, as most of the other Brawlers had busied themselves with training or recovering— or both, or neither (Kirby was probably in the establishment's vast kitchen). Samus found the resulting quiet enjoyable, a pleasant environment for brain teasers such as this one.

Across-12 was exactly 5 spaces long, with the vowel 'o' of the word 'brothers' (hint: relationship between two plumbers) the middle letter. For a moment, Samus had been tempted to put 'shorties' in her neat scrawl in place of 'brothers' before relenting and filling in the squares properly. Mario and Luigi's height had nothing to do with their strength, and poking at the one category in which the siblings lacked was simply unfair.

The female bounty hunter bit back a yawn. '_Shorties'? _she asked herself as her eyes raked across the half-finished puzzle. Her inner consciousness shook its head. _I must be more tired than I thought, to be making such remarks. I'm losing my touch._ She snorted. _Holy Prime. Now I'm thinking to myself._

Fighting back another yawn, Samus moved to stretch her limbs briefly. Her muscles ached pleasantly, a sure sign that her training wouldn't go without reward. Though tomorrow they would be sore, the blonde knew that it would be worth every ounce of new muscle that she gained for her pains. With this thought, she picked up her pen and paper with renewed determination.

"Come on, I can do this… it's an 'individual almost identical to another'," she mumbled to herself, trying to break through the invisible mental wall that kept her from the answer with verbal encouragement. No such miracle occurred and she growled at the square on the newsprint, as if to threaten the answer out of the paper.

But paper and ink are inanimate objects, and can't respond even when threatened by an irate bounty hunter. Samus groaned, and flung a hand over her temple in defeat.

"Clone."

She started and leapt off the sofa, body tensing halfway into a defensive position before she noticed the silhouette framed in the light of the double doors. Forcing herself to relax, Samus sighed. Old habits were hard to break, especially when they'd been hammered into you by years of mortal peril. She'd wrapped her mind around the fact that none of her fellow Brawlers was out for her head, but her body still had yet to break away from the 24-7 alert… particularly when she was in just her Zero suit. The damn thing was so _vulnerable_…

Eyeing the shadowy figure, Samus sat back down, grabbing the crossword off the floor where it had fallen in her rush to defend herself from a nonexistent threat. "What do you want, old man?" she asked, doing her best not to look as ruffled as she was.

Snake looked at her dispassionately, unmoving. "Clone," he repeated. At the look on Samus' face he gestured toward the paper in her hand. "The answer."

"…Oh." Samus looked from the elderly compatriot to the newspaper in her hand, and reached for her pen. _It was 'clone' all along…! _The answer seemed too easy, but there it was. _Why didn't I think of that?_

"You're welcome," he drawled pointedly, pushing himself off the doorframe and sauntering into the lounge. The grizzled fighter walked past her and rummaged for a cup from the kitchenette in the corner of the room. Samus watched as he poured himself a glass of water.

The blonde gave him a disapproving look, but thanked him all the same. "Thanks." Her pen moved swiftly over the squares of her puzzle.

He grunted. "You're welcome," he repeated again. The cup tilted back and he drank the entirety of the cup in one long draught before rasping a sound of satisfaction, and pouring himself another cupful. After the third straight drought he coughed and threw the plastic disposable into the nearby trash bin. "Ugh, weak. Damn Hand's ban on booze…" he muttered.

Samus snickered from her place on the sofa. "It's only for the best," she defended the Master of the Smash Brothers, glancing at him. "You can't fight drunk."

"Oh yeah?" Snake challenged, turning to scowl at her. "I beg to differ. I've done it before, bounty hunter; I can do it again, so help the giant floating appendage that decided to ban all the good stuff." Samus made a dangerous noise, and the man held up his hands in a dismissive motion.

"At least I don't sneak around like some damn spy," she snapped.

He laughed, the sound raucous. "That's 'cause I _am_ one, Aran."

Eventually his laughter faded and he lapsed into impassivity, and there was silence. The two hunters pickled in their own cocktails of thought, and the room quickly immersed in a pregnant pause.

Samus had gone back to her crossword by this time. But instead of reading the next hint, she was berating herself over a word that she should've recognized so easily, given her… experiences. The blonde sat in a foul mood, arms crossed and posture tense. The newspaper sat in a folded heap on the coffee table before her beside the pen. She glared at them both.

"Why the foul mood, princess? Mad 'cause I solved your little puzzle for you?" came the taunt, and Samus redirected her glare at Snake, whose expression remained flat save a hint of a smirk.

"Maybe." Samus looked stonily at the spy, unrelenting.

To her surprise, Snake frowned outright. "So that's not all of it, then." He leant against the far wall, gazing evenly at the female hunter. "What's the rest?"

She stared at him, unnerved by his ability to read her so easily. Carefully arranging her features into a blank slate, she began, "You don't—"

"You a clone?" he asked.

Samus had to keep her jaw from falling. _How did he—? _She forced her nerves to recover from her surprise. _What, he can read my mind, now? _Pulling on her wits, she replied as callously as she could manage in order to defend herself. "Why, are you?" she snapped.

"Yes."

This time the silence was thick, heavy.

Snake sniffed. "What?" he rasped, meeting Samus's look of surprise with one of unusual calm. "What, you didn't know?" The black-clad man snorted. "Bah… Well, you do now."

"You…" The younger fighter stared at him, face a mix of indiscernible emotions all chiefly overrun by utter realization. "You're… a clone?" Her question was met with a silent yes. Samus looked at him incredulously, then looked away, smirking. "I never would've expected it from you, old man."

He fidgeted. Samus, though all her surprise, noticed that his indifferent stance (he still leant against the wall) became forced. Just a little tense. Just a little. "Yeah, well…" he muttered, looking down at the floor. "I'm not as old as I look. Cloning process was faulty; In any case, they got the spy they wanted." He chuckled dryly.

Choked by a sense of overwhelming guilt and understanding, Samus struggled. He'd admit it so easily. As if it was another fact of life… which it was, she reminded herself. But at the same time, it was also a personal matter for her. She wasn't used to telling others about the more personal matters of her life. "I…" She stumbled over herself, wanting to empathize, to let him know that she empathized, but having to fight across her own wariness of others to do so. "I'm…"

Head inclining, he acknowledged somberly, "I see." Then he turned to leave, resolute.

As he made for the double doors, Samus stood, guilt welling. "Snake…"

"David," he murmured, throwing one last look over his shoulder. "I… My name is David."

She, who understood the significance of the individual, paused, at once awed and honored to be entrusted with the identity of the spy— and a little ashamed to not have one to entrust to him. For all her life, she had been Samus.

She— it— hadn't been a real clone, of course. It had been made of Phazon, and her DNA. But in the end… it might as well have been a proper replica. Her… clone… had thrown off the very thing that she had grounded herself on: her talents as an individual. It had given her strength to know that she was who she was, and her abilities solely hers. When that affirming fact had been taken away…

Samus nodded, and crossed her arms. "I'll… see you later, then."

"If I live that long," he barked a laugh. "'Later, Aran."

"Samus," the blonde said.

"…Samus."

He left.

Samus returned to her crossword puzzle.

--

I dunno. This was random. I don't think I got all the facts straight (looked up on Wiki), but whatever. R&R...


	6. Tea Party: The Girls and Snake

**A/N: **Again, again— I've never played Metroid in my life. Or Metal Gear Solid.

**06- Tea Party**

At first, Samus had accepted without a second thought; she'd been tired beyond proper mental processing that day (four quadruplet matchups in a row; what was Master Hand thinking!?), and when Peach'd invited her to her little tea party she doubted she'd even realized what she'd been saying.

However, after a proper shower and adequate liquid sustenance, she found herself fretting over the affair.

Samus had never been a very feminine type of woman. Her line of work simply didn't allow it of her; heck, half the time everyone just assumed she was male because of her androgynous appearance, thanks to her mecha suit. The fact that she, was in fact, a she… was very much a side factor, one that she didn't like including in her résumé simply for the fact of avoiding sexist hobgoblins that liked to poke complications toward someone… female… in her profession.

Sometimes she wished she'd been born male, and begone with all the problems that came with being unfeminine when she was, in fact, female. But of course, life is unfair in the worst of cases. She'd learned to live with her set of XX chromosomes just like how everyone else lived with their assigned pair.

But what about this tea party?

What _about_ this tea party?

Deep down in a dank, forgotten corner of her battle-hardened heart, Samus suspected there lay the unused femininity that she had buried away so long ago. But was it still usable? She doubted it. Dear _Chozo_… had she immersed herself in her work so long that she'd actually _forgotten_ how to be girly?

Her knuckles rapped mutely against Peach's pink-framed doorway. No, she hadn't worn her Suit to the party. But since her wardrobe was rather… restrictive… she came today in her Zero suit. Not exactly the best of party wear, she admitted to herself, but regarding what clothes she actually owned… She eyed the painted border of the door. Just the sight of the gaudy color made her grimace— a sign Samus didn't take to be good. A deep breath and slow exhale later, the door was opened by none other than the pink princess herself. The bounty hunter soon found herself seated amongst an array of floor cushions, before a squat table laden with china and tea cakes.

To her surprise they were joined by none other than Sheik and one of the Ice Climber twins. (For the life of her, she could never tell which was which, even with her Suit's wide arsenal of abilities.) Samus sent an inquisitive look at the sheikah, who merely glanced at her through his— her?— unruly bangs and reached for a filled teacup. Peach pressed a similar set of porcelain into Samus's hands, and she sipped at the mild liquid. The tea was sweet, but not overpoweringly so.

Peach smiled apologetically at Sheik, and explained to Samus, "She had a match not fifteen minutes ago. If I'd known, I might've planned this for later…"

Sheik waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine," she (for Samus decided to follow Peach's example) replied, somehow managing to drink her tea without removing her scarf of sorts. Samus watched her eat with more than a little curiosity. "I apologize for staying in this… form. I haven't the mana to revert back yet."

The Ice Climber twin chirruped, and Peach shook her head. "It's no problem at all," she replied, finally reaching for her own cup and plate now that everyone was served.

Fragrance lifted lazily off the surface of the steaming liquid and the female members of the Smash Bros. ("Which is all really _so_ misleading," commented Peach) sat enjoying each others' company. News was shared, the topic varying as widely as they dared bring up gossip about— The newcomers Ike, the Pokémon Trainer, Lucario, etc.; recipes for strawberry cake; the best way to angle a fire flower in order to cause the most percent of damage to an opponent.

Sometime or another Samus actually began to enjoy herself. She quipped in what words she dared spare, listening for the most part but still finding the three Brawlers good— if not fine— company. If this was all there was to being feminine, maybe it wouldn't be so hard for her after all…

They were just getting around to Link's uncanny knack for getting himself outfitted in a pair of tights in nearly every incarnation so far, when they were interrupted by a sudden ruckus in the hallway. None of them had so much the time to set down their respective teacups before someone vary rashly shoved open the door to the room and shut it as fast as it had opened.

The four females froze with the porcelain in their hands and stared openly at Snake, the intruder.

The grizzled fighter muttered obscenities to himself and who or whatever was on the other side of the door, then turned around, obviously hoping to find a second exit. He was faced instead with the well-progressed (and now interrupted) tea party.

There was a long, awkward pause.

The Ice Climber twin spoke up. "Snake, did you shave your moustache?" she squeaked. Samus studied the man's face carefully. There _was_ something different…

He snorted. "No, kiddo; I waxed it," he replied sarcastically, then at the naïve little girl's expression explained with a huff, "It's Octacamo tech; makes me look like I'm suppos'ta." Samus remembered briefly the conversation she'd had with the spy a few days back, and connected one for one.

_He doesn't look so bad,_ she thought, considering his previous explanation of the whole premature aging thing; then froze. _Wait, what? _

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the stray thought. Unfortunately, it only attracted Snake's attention.

Solid Snake blinked once, then twice, at the scene of Samus Aran sitting in a mass of PINK pillows and SIPPING TEA OUT OF A CUP. He swore his brain nearly overloaded from the oxymoron of what he was seeing before he finally pulled out of his speechlessness and exploded into a fit of hilarity.

One hand bracing against his hip and the other holding his temple, Snake arched with the wave of laughter even as Samus glowered at him, scandalized. "_Samus?!" _he gasped, looking at the blonde through the fingers upon his forehead. "Is _this _what you do after your Brawls? Holy shit, woman! I mean…" Smirking brazenly at her as his laughs died away, he commented wryly, "So much for your tough-girl act, eh? Underneath all that armor plating, you're still a little girly at hear—"

He never got to finish that sentence, because at that moment Samus leapt up from amidst the pillows, extracted her Whip from some hidden compartment on her Suit, and lashed out at the offending person with a growl on her lips.

"Ho, sh—!" Snake scrambled to open the door he'd entered through not five minutes before. The knob twisted easily and the spy tore into the hallway, laughing maniacally as he fled from the snarling mass of wrath that was now Samus Aran, professional intergalactic bounty hunter.

Ike watched the pair disappear down the hall and turn a corner. He shared a glance with Link and Marth. "Do you think we should keep chasing him?"

Link looked down the hallway again, then shook his head, smirking. The Hero of Light returned his sword to its scabbard. "No, I think he's learned his lesson."

"Correction: _is_ learning his lesson," Marth corrected, sheathing his own sword. A smirk of his own appeared over his lips. "He won't be sneaking into our dorm again, I predict."

Scratching his head, Ike took one last fleeting look down the hall. "D'you think he'll be okay?"

"Dunno," said Link cheerfully, turning to leave.

"Does it matter?" asked Marth, raising an eyebrow.

Ike sighed. "I guess not…"

The three swordsmen turned and walked away in the opposite direction, satisfied with their revenge on Snake for on-so-_un_smoothly breaking into their room, and trying to hide in their closet afterward.

Meanwhile, the two princesses and the little Ice Climber fluffed the pillows in Samus' absence, all too happy to resume their tea party.

"You know," Peach commented daintily, sipping at her cup of tea, "I think she _likes_ him." She giggled.

"Really?" piped the Ice Climber, her eyes widening a fraction.

Sheik rolled her eyes and reached for a tea cake.


End file.
